With Me In Sin
by DevonWren
Summary: Just a little Merlin/Arthur with a little Arthur/Gwen - Reviews are very much appreciated.


_**Just something I thought I should upload for the sake of uploading, review if you want to, I'd really love it if you did. But, I completely understand if you don't... it's a bit weird, and even I can't really understand completely what's going on...**_

With Me in Sin

After they've stolen everything that held them together, after there's nothing left of who they were before. That's when they'll realise. When there is no turning back, no running, no hurting, no regret, they'll begin to see how little they are - alone. Stretching hearts, to steal more than one other, is like two roses growing from the same seed, with room enough to grow they can flourish, but without enough food within the seed, one will inevitably die. But which one. The smaller, frailer, innocent rose that cannot help its disposition? Or the strong, greedy, natural rose that grasps attention and begs for praise? The larger. Because, soon enough, it will be picked.

To call Guinevere a rose, would give her a name she doesn't deserve. Arthur could see as much, and he saw more. Beyond the narrow talkings of his father, and the frowns he received from his own conscience when he looked _his_ way. The way his eyes can't help but stray to those lips and steal one last glance before he turns away. But, he can't think himself into any other way, not after those swimming blue eyes that gaze from under raven-brown hair became the gateway to his_ own_ soul. Not just Merlin's. Because what he felt was better than any diamonds and gold and jewellery he could buy Gwen, better than any flowers he picked for her from the court gardens as a hasty compromise. And better than the nights he spent lying by her side and counting the seconds until she would have to leave, the seconds until the clumsy boy would tumble through his door. Even the stench he sometimes brought in after mucking out the stables. He would prefer that.

But these were only glances. He'd seen him so many times, their eyes pouring into each other's, both listening to the irregular intakes of breath that followed. And every time he held it inwards. Confessions were not what he did. Confessions were not what Merlin did either. A confession was the immediate release of one's soul, stealthily scraping any excess weight off of shoulders. Although, Merlin. He was certain. Would do anything to help another, would do anything to decrease the pressure on someone else by increasing the pressure on his own narrow, slowly-rounding shoulders. But how can he help someone with something he cannot possibly know is there? Arthur questioned if this was really what his destiny entailed, if loving a man was really what was meant for him. Did the pink-tipped arrow from Cupid's bow miss hopelessly? Was it aimed to strike Gwen and then Merlin through the heart? _Or Gwen and himself?_ Either way, he wanted nothing any different to how it was now. Nothing any different to how he felt when he saw his eyes wander, when they momentarily met his own and stole away his sense as if it was theirs to claim. Because they could take it. In fact, he would want them to have it. He would want Merlin to steal everything that held him together, until there was nothing of who he was before.

Why love one's self if there is no one who will do the same? Why respect one's self whilst knowing that there will always be someone else who matters more, someone else whose life is _worth_ more? Arthur wouldn't live alone - alone with Gwen - when he knew that, more than anyone, more than himself,_ Merlin was his life_. Merlin, the one whom he touched, once, with his lips, pressed him to the back of his bedchamber wall and searched inside his head for that sense of regret - was the one he needed. He'd felt that sensation in the pit of his stomach as Merlin responded, how his eyes, initially, had never been so alight. The notion of having your eyes open when you kissed is supposed to be more intimate, as if you're closer. But Merlin's eyes had closed then. So they didn't speak of it. Arthur's searching for the signs was gone to waste.

The first time Arthur told the truth. The first time Arthur spoke what was really on his mind, in the only way he knew how - that was the time when Merlin's eyes were open. That was the time when he no longer needed them open, watching his own back, watching his breaths to make sure there was no one stood behind him waiting to take them away. He had someone to do that for him now. But his eyes were open for a different reason. Because he was_ seeing_, rather than looking.

But what came with seeing, gave you an excuse to look. In particular, when it comes to seeing other people. Even more particularly, when it comes to seeing other people with other people. How the smallest fluctuation in a person's set-smile can indicate something their mind has denied their expression. That fluctuation in _Gwen's_ smile... When she saw Arthur. That tore at _so much_, and left so little un-torn. But the more it happened, the more his eyes detected the unfaithfulness, the less he allowed himself to heal. With everything already broken, there was nothing left that she could_ break_. He could be happy with what happiness he was granted, feeling numb against the sadness he accepted.

After all, without the sadness, there would be no happiness. He saw that now, how no one who believed it did. And even more than those who didn't.

Because, something afterwards, something better, something that his mind would not fail to believe, held him higher. When Arthur said those fateful words, although his head would throw them away, he would reply in truth. And truth was all he felt.

To plead and know that, forever, you cannot, is to die alone.

To know that you can't and love, is to die knowing that there was always _one_. And for Merlin, that one would always be Arthur.

He just didn't know that Arthur felt the same. He just didn't know - that for Arthur to see Merlin's eyes open, then flutter, then close, _his _eyes must have been open to begin with.

That should be enough, it should be enough.

Hands would graze the skin of the other, and cheeks would flush and eyes would turn away. But both heads would be consumed by the same thing. Their equal and opposite. If Merlin's eyes ever tinkered on the edge of peeking around, around the pillar he'd constructed between them, then Arthur would feel it, and he would peek back. Their gazes would lock, and everything kept within lips would be spoken without change in the sound. For there is no need for sound, when you can have silence. And there is no need for truth, when you can have silence.

Truth - being the one thing that no one can ever deny - was the only hope left for either. Truth was all Merlin could ever bring himself to speak to his prince, and the prince would only ever reply in truth.

So when, before Arthur strode into battle with his head held high and proud and confident:

Merlin would tell him something,

The twinkle in Arthur's eye as he considered the possibility of kissing him, _again_,

Both were nothing but truth.

"Live for me,"

And those words drove home something that signed a sealed parchment for Arthur, as the message had already been written and the envelope closed. Those were the words Guinevere had spoken to him as his wearied mind had awoken from a cruel and misgiving enchantment - as he had been awoken by here intoxicating kiss, and not understood why - but they meant more coming from these full pink lips, than hers.

It was made clear, by three less conventional words than the obvious -

Despite what the legends say about Arthur, Guinevere and Merlin, things would always be different. It would always be Merlin who captured his gaze for that little bit longer, and it would be Merlin who held ears enough to listen as his heart fell through his stomach.

And when it came to choices? Well, Arthur would always _choose_ Merlin. Regardless of his wedding band.


End file.
